


Lucky

by nightrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Surgery, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gets hurt at a protest, and has temporary amnesia when he wakes up after surgery. Still, he's very happy to see Grantaire waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Cap!

“Can I go in yet?” Grantaire demands.

 

The receptionist, plump and middle aged and clearly tired of answering the same question every five minutes for the entire time Enjolras has been in surgery, rolls her eyes. “I promise you, I will tell you when you can go in.”

 

“But is he okay?”

 

“It’s a routine removal,” Joly assures him. “The odds of him dying are _extremely_ low. Less than fifty percent-“

 

“Please, please, please, if you have ever loved me, do not tell me the numbers,” Grantaire begs. 

 

“I was joking,” Joly sighs. 

 

Grantaire paces back and forth again. So many times he’s asked Enjolras not to do this— asked him to prioritize himself, and Grantaire, just a little bit. Asked him to take care of himself. 

 

And this is what he does. He goes off and gets himself shot because he has to be the fucking hero, again, and rescue everybody and save the day so there was not a single arrest or injury at the protest, except for Grantaire’s stupid wonderful boyfriend, who has a bullet in his torso and might be dying just beyond those doors.

 

Joly wouldn’t joke about that if there were any chance of it happening. He wouldn’t.

 

But still, Grantaire is full of turmoil. He can’t help but feel like Enjolras should have stayed out of the line of fire— for Grantaire’s sake, if not his own. 

 

“Mr. Grantaire? You can come in now,” the receptionist interrupts, and Grantaire ignores the rest of Joly’s sentence and pushes his way down the hallway and through the doors and into the room where Enjolras has spent the last few hours having his surgery.

 

He’s still unconscious when Grantaire enters the room. The first thing Grantaire checks is that, yes, he is breathing, slowly and steadily. The monitor ticks away his heartbeat, and it’s the most beautiful thing Grantaire has ever heard. 

 

He looks like an angel, as he always does when he sleeps— serene and peaceful, none of the fury that illuminates his waking expressions. His golden hair is tousled, lying on the pillow around his calm face. 

 

Grantaire kneels at his bedside and whispers, “Hello, Ange.”

 

His eyes flutter open gently, and he turns his head. His big blue eyes fix on Grantaire’s face and widen slightly. “Hey,” he says. “Who’re you?”

 

Grantaire panics, his heart stopping for a second. That’s when the door opens and the receptionist pokes her head in. “He’ll be disoriented for the next twenty minutes, amnesia’s normal while the meds wear off. We dosed him up like crazy. Try and get him to drink some of that water that’s next to him, maybe eat some of the crackers, okay?”

 

“Okay, yeah,” Grantaire says, beyond relieved that nothing has gone terribly wrong with Enjolras’ brilliant mind. As soon as he hears that, he turns his attention back to his beloved. “You don’t know who I am?”

 

Enjolras shakes his head, and then whimpers a little. “Owwww. Dizzy.”

 

“Yeah, try and stay still, okay?” 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“That’s all right. You’re doing great.” 

 

“Thank you.” Enjolras is talking really slowly, his voice thick and hesitant, but at least he seems reasonably alert. “You’re so nice. Nice and _pretty_.”

 

Grantaire can’t help but smile at that. His own boyfriend, drugged up and flirting with him. “That’s very nice.”

 

“Did you say who you are?”

 

“I’m Grantaire.”

 

“Are you an angel?”

 

Grantaire laughs. “No, although maybe you’re starting to remember. That’s what I usually call you.”

 

“No, I don’t remember that. It’s just that you look like an angel.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“You’re so _beautiful,”_ Enjolras breathes, quietly, and Grantaire smiles at him. 

 

“I’m not an angel. I’m just here to take care of you, okay?”

 

“Okay. Wow, I got lucky.”

 

Grantaire would make a joke about that another time, but now just gets the glass of water from the little side table and offers it to Enjolras. “Can you drink some of this for me?”

 

“I could do _anything_ for you,” Enjolras says. 

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Oh, sorry, I think it’s these meds I’m on.” Enjolras blushes. “I normally would never- it’s just, you’re really gorgeous, and I- are you single?”

 

Grantaire can’t help but laugh at that. “No, I’m happy to say that I’m not.”

 

“Oh.” Enjolras pouts a little, his lower lip sticking out, and it’s so cute Grantaire wants to kiss him. He can’t risk it, though.

 

“Why don’t you drink a little more water, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Enjolras, usually not one to take orders from everyone, does exactly as he’s told. “You have such good ideas. The water is good.”

 

Grantaire tries to choke down his giggles, and as much as he’s enjoying watching an intoxicated Enjolras _flirt_ with him, he can’t stand it another second. “Oh my God, Enjolras, you’re the one I’m dating.”

 

“What?”

 

“We’re dating. We’ve been going out for, like, a year and a half.”

 

Enjolras stares at him. “ _No way._ ”

 

“Yes. Totally. That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna bring you home when you’re feeling a little better. I’m your boyfriend.” 

 

_“Whoa._ ” Enjolras just stares up at him for another few seconds, and then his face breaks out in an enormous grin. “Oh my goodness, I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.”

 

Grantaire blushes a little, and Enjolras reaches a hand up to touch his cheek. “Actually, I am,” Grantaire tells him. It’s the truth- Grantaire has never really understood how he got lucky enough to have this man in his life, this beautiful angel who is at once untouchable flame and gentle light— and who is currently petting Grantaire’s cheek and staring at him in wonder. It’s becoming much, much harder to stay mad at Enjolras, even if the stupid man did manage to get himself shot even after Grantaire specifically asked him not to. “Come on, Enjolras. Drink some water, and then we’ll head home.”

 

“Okay.” Enjolras, still quiet as the drugs wear off, finishes his glass of water with Grantaire’s help, holding it up to his lips and tilting it back for him. “My tummy hurts,” he adds, petulantly.

 

“That’s because you just had surgery on it.”

 

“Can we go home, R?”

 

“Hey, my name! Your memory’s coming back?”

 

“Yeah. Was it not?”

 

“You were a little fuzzy when you woke up.”

 

Enjolras still sounds confused, although he obviously recognizes Grantaire now. “I still am. My head feels heavy.”

 

“That’s all totally normal.”

 

“It doesn’t feel normal.”

 

“I know. It must be scary.”

 

“Yeah. What happened?”

 

Grantaire sighs. “You were at a protest, and you got yourself shot.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“So everyone else could get away, because you _said_ there was no way the cops would shoot someone like you. And yet here we are.” Grantaire takes a deep breath. They’re not going to have this fight now, not when Enjolras is barely conscious. Maybe they won’t have this fight at all.

 

Especially since Enjolras frowns. “I’m sorry, R. You shouldn’t have to go through this. I wish you didn’t have to worry about me.”

 

“Of course I’m going to worry about you. I love you.”

 

“Still.”

 

“Still, this wasn’t my dream of how to spend our Saturday night together, but nonetheless… I know I’m lucky to have you. To love you. To take care of you, even if you could have _easily_ avoided the whole… Well. I’m here, ange. And we should get you home.”


End file.
